


Gorgeously Stupid Thing

by voodoo_smile



Category: Indie Music RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Cure (Band), music and bands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slash, Smut, The Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoo_smile/pseuds/voodoo_smile
Summary: Setting: Robert/Simon. 1985-86.Disclaimer: I do not own The Cure. Everything described in this story is fictional.**Inspired by a certain photo session where Robert is sprawled across a bed, along with his travel supplies including a copy of the Beano, Lolita, and an odd Snoopy-riding-a-banana pouch (in an interview the reporter also thought it was a banana. Robert said it was actually a surfboard, but I don't believe him). It was the only pouch that was not opened during this shoot.This is my take on what happens shortly after**





	

The last of the reporters had left Robert’s hotel room and he rolled over onto his back on the huge bed amidst the items from his luggage strewn about underneath him.  
  
"Oww,” He said aloud, and turned on to his side, digging out the small alarm clock from the bottom of the pile, the sharp corners of which dug into his shoulder, “Stupid fucking thing.” He scowled at it then tossed it across the room, hoping it would break into a million pieces once it hit the wall, but instead it bounced away and landed on the beige carpet with a thud, still intact. The offending item wasn’t even his—as far as he knew, it was merely a prop for the photo shoot. Robert hated clocks and watches. He had never owned any that he could remember and had never worn a watch as there had always been enough people in his life to see to it that he got out of bed and made it to wherever he needed to go, not always promptly, but that didn’t matter to him.  
  
There was a sharp knock at the door and a voice spoke from behind it.  
  
“Robert?” The voice asked.  
  
“Hmm?” Robert knew it was Simon. It was always Simon.  
  
“You finished?” Simon asked, his voice muffled by the heavy door.  
  
“Umm-hmm.” Robert hummed, and picked up one of the many fuzzy storage cases he used when traveling, turned it upside down and watched as the cassettes and batteries spilled out on to the bed. He picked up the orange one and did the same until he finally found what he was looking for: the film for his camera.  
  
“It’s unlocked. You can come in, Si.” Robert mumbled as he opened the box of film on the bed and grabbed his camera.  
  
“I’ve got something for you—for us.” Simon said, smiling as he opened the door, stepped into the room and locked it behind him.  
  
“What?” Robert asked and looked up at Simon standing before the bed with an open bottle of champagne in his hand and two glasses and Robert couldn’t help but grin broadly—it was just what he needed, “Brilliant, Si. I fucking need it after today.” He yawned and turned on his back as Simon approached him.  
  
“You’re joking, right?” Simon laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed and as he reached to place the bottle and glasses down on the bedside table, he caught sight of the small clock on the floor.  
  
“Fuck! My fucking clock! Been looking everywhere for the blasted thing!” He exclaimed, and picked it up to inspect it, shaking it as if it would spring back to life, but it was no use, it was dead, “How’d you get hold of this?” Simon asked.  
  
Robert simply shrugged, stretched out on the bed and sighed contentedly—his movements similar to those of a large, lazy cat—and his eyes began to close.  
  
Simon dropped the clock, reached for the bottle and took a drink directly from it as he eyed Robert lounging next to him, his hand dramatically draped over his eyes.  
  
“You haven’t done a bloody thing all day except lie here in front of a camera!” He chuckled and shook his head, adding, “Lazy bastard.”  
  
“Give us a drink, Si.” Robert muttered with his eyes still closed. His arm brushed past Simon’s leg and his hand expectantly waited to be magically supplied with a glass of champagne.  
  
“Get up and get your own drink.” Simon laughed out loud at Robert’s outrageousness, “Fucking queen, you are. Unbelievable!” Simon muttered, astonished.  
  
“Si,” Robert whined, “I’m thirsty. Come on.”  
  
“Not even a fucking ‘please’? What kind of shit manners were you brought up with?!” Simon toyed, but only partly so. Realistically, he knew how bratty Robert could get—had seen it countless times when it came to the others, the crew, even reporters, but Robert knew better when it came to Simon. Simon never gave in, and he knew Robert enjoyed that little game.  
  
“Need a drink.” Robert mumbled helplessly again to no one in particular.  
  
“Well, for piss sake, get up and get one!” Simon hissed and in one swift movement grabbed Robert’s shirt roughly, pulling him up on the bed.  
  
“Ow! Si! Wait!” Robert breathed, startled, and his eyes finally opened wide as Simon yanked again at his shirt, pulling him forward, “Fuck!” Robert exclaimed mildly, almost laughing at the sound of the thin fabric tearing, “You ripped my fucking shirt!”  
  
Simon let go of Robert’s shirt abruptly and sat back to gaze at the unfamiliar garment.  
  
“Who’s bloody shirt is this?” He asked plainly.  
  
“It’s mine! Who else’s?!” Robert insisted snidely and reached forward to grab the bottle.  
  
"Never seen it before.” Simon’s eyes were like slits as he suspiciously eyed the strange shirt, “Where’d you get it?”  
  
“How should I fucking know?!” Robert retorted, perturbed. He took a long guzzle from the bottle and let out a hiccup.  
  
“Hmm,” Simon huffed and leaned forward, “It’s too long.” He stated plainly and pulled at the bottom of it as his eyes wandered slowly over the smooth skin of Robert’s upper arms.  
  
“As if I fucking care!” Robert hissed condescendingly and turned away, prepared to guzzle another mouthful of champagne, but Simon quickly snatched the bottle from his hands, causing the champagne to bubble over the top and seep into the hideously patterned bedspread between them.  
  
Before Robert could protest or react in an instant Simon’s hand caught his face and he squeezed hard, causing his teeth to dig into his cheeks. He was now a mere inch from Robert as his dark eyes flashed meeting his, and he growled softly.

“If you’re going to get all pissy about it, I’ll leave... right now.” And he released Robert’s face roughly.  
  
Simon’s glare lingered for a moment, then seemed to soften as his hands found Robert’s upper arms and he began caressing them lightly, his mood seeming to change instantly to one of tenderness. His hands slid down Robert’s now goose-bumped, bare arms, moving down along his chest over his shirt, sliding down even further until his hands finally reached the top of Robert’s thighs where they lingered, squeezing lightly.

Robert found himself trembling and emitted a breathy exhale at Simon’s sudden fluctuation in temper and in his touch and his eyes closed.  
  
"I only want to know who gave this to you.” Simon breathed, his voice now gentle and quiet and he moved in even closer, his mouth nearly touching Robert’s, "Simple fucking question, really.”  
  
“I-no one, Si.” Robert whispered weakly. It was no use trying to escape and when Simon felt Robert tremble under his hands, he grinned slyly.

Their game was just starting and it was delicious. Delicious for Simon to watch Robert in a panic beside him, trembling as he licked his wet lips that were sloppily, almost obscenely, painted red to draw even more attention to that tempting mouth. Simon was convinced that Robert knew exactly what he was doing to him.  
  
“Was it that bloke in the lift?” Simon continued quietly, his voice now strained, “The one that kept sizing you up?” Simon’s hands continued to wander, creeping under the hem of Robert’s shirt and Robert practically jumped as he felt the heat of Simon’s warm hands on his skin and his breath on his face.  
  
By now Robert couldn’t even think, his head was spinning and he knew that whatever words came out of his mouth it wouldn’t matter. Simon would end up talking dirty to him once again and tell him just how hard that huge cock of his was, and how he couldn’t wait to rip the clothing right off of Robert’s back and how desperate he was to fuck him. He would say all the right things, all the things that would drive Robert insane with desire, but at the same time, Robert knew that if he got too carried away himself—if he was unable to respond right now— this naughty game would stop all together. He had to regain his composure if he wanted this to go on.  
  
“Yes... it-it was him.” Robert whispered, not even remembering any bloke in the lift with him today, not even realizing what his actual answer was nor caring, and as those words left his mouth, Simon kissed his neck and pulled at that perfect skin with his teeth.

“Did you...” Simon breathed heavily into Robert’s neck, his hands moving higher under Robert’s shirt, “Did he try to fuck you?” Simon whispered.  
  
Robert couldn’t help but moan at Simon’s ridiculous, yet filthy question and his cock was hard already. He felt as if he was melting in Simon’s arms as he kissed Robert’s chin and neck, his hands greedily finding their way underneath that absurd, ripped shirt to his chest, until his fingers circled a nipple, rendering Robert completely and utterly muddled.  
  
“No, I don’t-didn’t—” Robert mumbled, and Simon finally found his lips and kissed him, silencing his unintelligible mutterings.  
  
Simon moaned into Robert’s mouth and he pulled away from their languid kiss and Robert immediately heard Simon’s zipper, followed by a rustling of clothing being dropped to the floor and when Robert opened his eyes to look down, Simon pulled Robert’s hand to his cock. He could feel it pulse under his fingers as he explored it slowly, caressing it, and he watched as Simon’s gaze dropped to follow Robert’s hand. Simon groaned, immediately returning his eyes to meet Robert’s as he spoke in a low whisper.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Simon’s mouth covered Robert’s again hungrily, pushing his head back as he kissed him deeply, his tongue swirling with Robert’s before he pulled away.  
  
“That fucking mouth...” Simon hissed, and he kissed Robert again before uttering desperately, “Suck me.”

Robert suddenly felt light-headed and could do nothing but obey, and Simon’s hand pushed Robert’s head gently downward toward his lap. Simon’s breathing quickened as he felt Robert’s mouth surrounding his cock slowly, letting out a loud gasp as Robert began to suck, his one hand digging into Robert’s smooth shoulder under his shirt, the other slowly inching down inside the back of Robert’s trousers, squeezing as Robert sucked him off. Robert moaned softly as he came back up, catching sight of Simon’s eyes struggling to watch as Robert’s tongue snaked out against his delicate skin.  
  
“Mmmm…Robert.” Simon hummed breathlessly, almost beginning to lose control, thrusting into Robert’s mouth until he pulled him up, painfully and roughly, by a fist full of wild hair, causing his teeth to graze Simon’s cock as he pulled off, startling him.  
  
“Fuck!” Simon whimpered at that sensation and pulled Robert’s hair even harder, “Fucking kiss me.” Simon commanded, and Robert whimpered and did what he was told. He moved in and licked Simon’s bottom lip with his tongue before sliding it into his mouth, but Simon pulled away again, his breath now blowing against Robert’s ear as he held him, almost smothering him before murmuring into it, “I want to fuck you...right here.”  
  
Robert’s head spun even faster and he moaned helplessly at those words, and at the feeling of Simon’s hands unzipping his trousers and sliding those and his shorts off. He was now half naked and utterly defenseless. He had lost all control, his body trembling with anticipation and desire, and he loved every depraved moment of this.  
  
“Simon...” Robert spoke uselessly, and Simon pushed him down onto his back on the bed where the items from the earlier photo session had shifted—his Walkman now poking painfully into his lower back. Robert pushed at Simon and attempted to sit up, pulling the device out from under him, carelessly dropping it over the side of the bed, before attempting to speak again.  
  
“Shh.” Simon hushed him, and with a sweeping motion knocked most of Robert’s supplies off of the bed with a loud clatter, finally pushing Robert down again, “Lie back and let me fuck you...” Simon hissed, his voice wavering as if he could barely contain himself.

Robert gazed up at Simon and noticed a wolfish, predatory glint in his eyes as Robert lay submissively splayed on his back, his smooth, pale arms fully exposed in the short-sleeved shirt, his entire lower body and hard cock fully visible, and he watched as Simon licked his lips.  
  
He slowly extended his arm and his fingers found Robert’s cock and Robert moaned and thrust up slightly into Simon’s hand, his head already glistening with pre-ejaculate. Simon sighed and bent down to kiss Robert’s mouth and he reached over Robert’s head for the small, plastic pouch that had been sitting on the bed. It was the only pouch that hadn’t been opened like the others as instructed by Robert himself during the photo session because it was a private pouch of sorts, and one could easily have spotted that if they knew Robert’s dirty mind enough—and Simon most certainly did. When he first spotted the ludicrous, yet suggestive Snoopy riding a banana pouch, he knew just what that bag had contained. Most chose to only think of it as a childish item, from a sometimes childish mind and had never suspected it was anything other than a bag in which to store pencils and pens. No one was the wiser as the small tube of lubricant and a few condoms sat tucked away within, mere inches from reporters and photographers that had crowded the room earlier that afternoon.  
  
Simon finally zipped the pouch open, tossed the condoms aside carelessly and fumbled for the small tube. He coated his erect cock with the lube and he closed his eyes briefly, exhaling long and slow, wishing he was already inside him.  
  
“Roll over.” Simon commanded again, and Robert rolled on to his stomach, his hands reaching out behind him to touch Simon’s legs as Simon positioned himself and finally pushed himself deep inside.  
  
Robert gasped and his eyes closed tightly as he was propelled up onto the bed, his head hitting the upholstered headboard as Simon thrust into him.  
  
“Oh, fuck, Robert!” Simon moaned, but then abruptly stopped. His hands moved under Robert’s shirt and pushed it up so the pale skin of his back was fully exposed. His breath was trembling and his hands moved again, both palms on Robert’s ass as he drove into him even deeper, his slow thrusts now quickening, “God!” Simon was near breathless as he gasped loudly, mumbling from behind him, “Such a hot fuck!”   
  
His hands pulled at Robert’s shirt, ripping the fabric even more as he drove his cock into Robert, causing Robert’s head to ram into the headboard again, but there was nothing he could do— there was no stopping Simon. There was no stopping either one of them.  
  
"Ohh…No—I!” But Robert’s protest was silenced quickly as Simon thrust into him even deeper, harder, leaving him unable to form simple words and Robert was lost in bliss as Simon ravaged him, his hands squeezing, holding, _claiming_ Robert as he fucked him harder—Robert’s moans growing louder and more desperate. Robert mumbled suddenly out loud and Simon had slowed his movement and pulled completely out of him, only to push Robert flat onto his stomach on top of the few miscellaneous items still on the bed and Simon raised Robert’s hips to enter him again, but stopped.  
  
“What do you want?” Simon asked lustfully, his low, silky voice wavering as he balanced himself behind him, his finger sliding inside of Robert slowly, and Robert groaned loudly at that feeling, that sweet invasion, pulsing inside of him. But it wasn't enough. He needed all of him again.  
  
“I-I want...” Robert was barely able to catch his breath, and he turned his head to the side slowly and opened his eyes to gaze at Simon above him. He raised his arms above his head and grabbed onto a pillow and he licked his lips, “I want you to fuck me.” Robert finally croaked out, hoarsely.  
  
Simon was over Robert now, breathless, his limbs were shaking and he bent down to kiss that mouth before stroking himself briefly. Robert could feel his own cock stir under him and he thrust into the mattress softly as Simon lined himself up once more and entered him abruptly.  
  
Robert whimpered loudly and deliriously as Simon continued his glorious assault...and the weight of his body over him creating pressure and friction on his own swollen cock was sweet torture. The bed was now moving under their rhythm, the frame of it squeaking and groaning as Simon moaned on top of him, hands gripping his hips and his ass and Robert could feel beads of Simon’s sweat drip onto his back and he know he was almost there. They both were. He was going to come all over that bed as Simon fucked him mercilessly and he didn’t need anything else. He needed Simon to simply take him—to fuck him into submission until he was no longer coherent.  
  
“Fuck, Robert!” Simon growled and his hands pulled and ripped at Robert’s shirt, pulling Robert’s body back towards him as he rammed his cock into him one last time and he came with a long, ragged moan as Robert lay beneath him, his cock exploding, his come spurting onto the bed as Simon released his now torn and mangled shirt, causing Robert’s body to flop back down onto the mattress as Simon toppled down behind him.  
  
There were no words, no sounds from either of them as they lay beside each other, still breathless for what seemed like an eternity. Robert's arm stretched out slowly and dropped onto Simon's sweaty, naked chest and as their breathing slowed, Simon spoke at last.  
  
“What the fuck?!” His brow furrowed and he shifted in annoyance, pulling something out from under him.  
  
“Hmm? What, Si?” Robert asked sleepily.  
  
“This your camera?” Simon asked.  
  
“Yeah, why?” As Robert opened his eyes, he saw his camera sail past his head and into the wall, only to break apart on impact.  
  
“Simon, what the fuck???!!!” Robert sat up on his elbow and looked at Simon in disbelief.  
  
“I put that piece of shit out of its misery. Besides, you owe me a fucking clock, so now we’re even...bratty wanker.”


End file.
